Henry put his sandwich down, his hands trembling as guilt washed over him. "Miss... please don't lose your job over me. I’ll pack up and leave right now."
Clara shook her head, giving him a gentle, reassuring smile. "Don't apologize, sir. A job where feeding someone in need gets you fired isn't one worth keeping anyway."
The old man fell silent. Slowly, the defeated slouch in his shoulders vanished. He sat upright, his weary expression transforming into one of sharp, unmistakable authority.
Without a word, Henry reached into the inner breast pocket of his tattered jacket. Instead of crumpled receipts or loose coins, he withdrew a sleek, top-tier smartphone.
Martha sneered, folding her arms. "Oh, wonderful. A beggar with a smartphone. Probably picked it out of a dumpster."
Henry ignored her completely. He unlocked the device, pressed a single speed-dial button, and raised the phone to his ear. When the line connected, his voice was no longer weak—it was deep, crisp, and commanding.
"It’s me," Henry said into the receiver, his piercing gaze locked onto Clara. "I found the young woman."